Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Vale

My magic pressed against my skin the moment we entered Valyn.

It had been mounting, insistent, ever since we returned to the territory, but as Cypherion and I journeyed through the capital, the Fates whispered even more. Nine voices mingled through my being, their need to release a pressure against my chest.

"How do you want to go about this?" Cypherion asked, sinking into a chair at the rickety table in the room we'd rented above a candle shop.

It was off the main road, not one of the more frequented boutiques that spotted the market districts. One of my favorites I'd ever visited, though those were few.

The owners told me years ago that they rented space in the attic to travelers, but didn't hang a sign out front to avoid a rowdy crowd. It was the only place I recalled, and I'd been hoping to Valyrie that it was available.

With my hood up, I didn't think the woman downstairs recognized me, but I remembered the gentle lines framing her lips and eyes, the signs of someone who lived a long life and smiled plenty during it.

Instantly, safety wrapped around me.

But once we closed the door to the attic, a stifling feeling ground against my sternum, only adding to the magic pounding through me. There was one small bed and a basin to wash in, not much other furniture crowding the space, but the aromatic fragrances wafting through the floorboards from the candles below stole the fresh air.

Fingers twitching, I leaned across the table to throw open the singular small round window in the room and inhaled the scent of Valyn's clear skies and flowers. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the dust in the rafters, and I chewed my lip as I peeked out over the wooden shutters and tiled roofs of the city.

My city.

No.

No longer my city . Had it ever been?

I'd never truly explored the buildings draped across the hilly Starsearcher land, nor the woven pathways and what lingered in the shadows. I'd only visited a few establishments, and those were on a regimented schedule.

I didn't know Valyn the way others knew their homes. Not the way Cypherion knew Damenal. Memories of wandering hidden alleys and shops with him rang through my mind, his explanations on each one thorough.

Cities were not just fixtures and buildings and shops, as I'd thought. They held secrets buried within their corners, adventures beneath the cobblestones.

What tavern was the best for dancing?

What market had the freshest produce?

What shows or gambling halls or fighting dens could one only venture into with a known password?

I knew none of those answers about Valyn, had only viewed the city as it pertained to my magic. Where to study, where to worship, and where to purchase supplies when I was allowed to do so myself. I'd thought that's all there was to it.

Since we'd reentered, though, my magic strained against my skin. The tattooed brand beat with a beckoning instinct. It wanted out—all of it.

The need to read was a tingling allure that I suppressed, and as I gazed out over Valyn, my mind couldn't help but highlight each temple I knew of, like they were summoning me to convene with the Fates.

"Stargirl?"

A sure but soft voice brought me back to myself. A gentle grip on my wrist and the strum of a thumb across my pulse.

I snapped my eyes down to Cypherion's, worry gazing back among the deep blues.

"Talk to me," he said.

"I…" I cast one more glance over the city, then turned my back on the window and stepped between his legs. Cypherion kept one hand on mine, the other resting gently against my hip.

"Tonight, we should go to the Second District and visit the temple. See what sort of protection is around the archives. It's been years since I've visited that location, and I'm not sure what their current system is."

His brows pulled together, clearly suspicious of my obvious discomfort. But I avoided his eyes and stifled the magic riling within me.

"We should wear our cloaks and hide what weapons we can beneath them." I looked at the sword Ophelia had given me when we first left Damenal, now resting beside Cypherion's scythe. Warmth gathered in my chest at the sight. "We don't want to look like a threat."

He scoffed, and that had a small smile breaking on my lips. I looked down at him, the warrior with a heart as soft as an Angel's wing but who commanded weapons with the brutality of the gods.

A complexity, a duality.

Mine .

And some of that discomfort cleared further. In this room, with him, I was safe but not caged. I was freer than I'd ever been, the future retained more promise than even my magic could guarantee, but it was mine to wield.

I lifted my hand to the back of his neck and curled his hair around my fingers. "How are you feeling?"

For a moment, he seemed surprised that I asked. His head tilting slightly, considering—and he finally admitted, "I'm worried."

"About the archives?"

"Yes," he said, gently massaging my hip through the chiffon of my skirt. "But also my friends."

"When was the last you heard from them?" They'd been keeping communication scarce, but it was clear from the strain of his voice how much it pained him to be away from them.

"Ophelia wrote a few days ago that they're stationary for now, so my letters can be more frequent and contain more detail, as they'll be less likely to arrive at the wrong location, but they're still being vague since you and I are traveling." He huffed a laugh. "Except Tolek. He sent me three pages describing every hand he won in cards and every tavern he wanted to show me when we join them."

"Soon," I promised, tracing his soft smile lightly.

"Hopefully, yeah." He sighed.

"Do you know where they are?"

"Somewhere in the Western Outposts." He shrugged, but held tighter to me. "They said they would send more information once we were done traveling."

I brushed my fingers down the back of his neck. "Can you feel them through your tattoo?"

Cypherion lifted a hand, meeting mine and dragging his fingers over the thin outline of mountains. "The Bond is like a net that casts us back toward the mountains to fulfill our purpose after the Undertaking. And every Mystique that has one can feel that connection." He dropped his hand, shaking his head. "But we're all individual strings making up the whole. It's hard to differentiate one from the other."

"I understand." I absently ghosted my hand over the tattoo on my shoulder. The one that did not hold the same magic as Mystiques but was powerful enough to release me from any oaths held to Lumin Temple.

Cypherion's eyes narrowed for a moment, then his expression softened as his mind worked down whatever path it was set on.

"I never asked." He paused, cheeks slightly flushing. "Do Starsearchers have a form of commitment like the Bind?"

"We exchange vows in a ceremony," I explained. "Incense is burned, a joint reading done. Then, and only if the Fates deem it appropriate, some searchers receive commitment tattoos. Become Fatesworn. But I've never seen it done."

"The Fates have to give permission?"

I nodded. "They don't choose whom you end up with—except in rare legends—and if they don't approve you do not have to heed their warnings for the first part of the ritual, but you can't receive any tattoos without that recognition."

"Different," he said. "The Bind is all about choice, not permission."

I shrugged. "They're both beautiful in their own way. One about freedom, one about a promise of the stars."

Unspoken questions weighed the air between us. Could one receive both? Could tattoos be exchanged outside of clans? What would the Fates think?

Neither of us voiced those curiosities, though. And I thought we were both okay with that. With reigniting whatever we'd had before Daminius and easing back into it.

We did not need the approval of the Fates.

I spun my oldest tarnished ring around my finger as I considered it, and Cypherion tracked the movement.

"You've worn that much longer than the others." It wasn't a question, but he opened the opportunity for me.

"It was my mother's," I said, staring at the opal set in the center. "She gave it to me before…" I didn't finish the sentence, but he understood. "She gave one to me and one to my sister when we were young. We wore them on chains around our necks until they fit—or, I did. I like to imagine she did, too. That she's out in the world somewhere with a twin ring to mine."

I'd told him about my sister before—what I remembered of her. How fiercely protective she was.

"Have you ever considered looking for her?" he asked, gently.

I shook my head. "I didn't want to seek them out, take them from whatever comfortable lives they may have forged for themselves after I was stolen. If their magic is anything like mine…"

"It would be used like yours, too."

I nodded, swallowing that fear. Cold dripped through my veins like I imagined the heart of the most vengeful Fate felt.

"You don't think they know where you are? That you became Titus's apprentice?"

"They couldn't," I explained. Nerves fluttered through me. "I shortened my name when I was still living at the temple."

" What? "

"Harlen started calling me Vale, but my true name is Adelline, my middle name Valencia." I curled a strand of his hair around my finger. "It's not a huge jump, but I was only ever Adelline Valencia to my parents and sister, and Titus never made my family name public knowledge—thank the Fates."

"Adelline Valencia," Cypherion said, testing it. He searched my face. "It's beautiful. So are you. But I like Vale."

"I do, too."

And if it kept my family protected, I'd never answer to my true name again.

My eyes stung, but I blinked away the tears, clenching my hand with the opal stone of my mother's ring facing my palm.

"Why don't you write to your friends?" I suggested. "Tell them where we are and give them an update on our plan."

"Yeah," Cypherion said slowly, both of us trying to focus on the present conflicts again. As he reached for his pack, I moved to step away, but his voice cut through the room. "Where are you going?"

A tug on my wrist, and I was falling into his lap with a small squeal, all my mourning from a moment before vanishing with his warmth around me.

"Giving you space?" My words turned up at the end, because what in the Fates did he mean?

Cypherion dumped his supplies on the table, the corked inkwell rolling. "Write the letter with me?"

There was a new vulnerability to his words. An invitation to stand together as we presented new findings and strategies to his friends—his friends that were not only the current leaders of the Mystique Warriors, but a group of individuals who comprised the deepest parts of his heart. The ones he'd fought and sacrificed for. The ones he would risk his life for.

Cypherion raised his brows hesitantly, asking me to be a part of this with him, his care for them bleeding out between us.

I would bottle up that worry for him, widen the room to make space for everything he felt and feared.

"Of course," I whispered.

And as he sighed, the weight of our mission fell on me again. Yes, this was about untangling my magic, but the implications stretched so much further than that. They extended past the archives, past the walls of this capital, clear across the continent.

They were pressing down on those Cypherion loved most, and though he didn't say it, I thought he was afraid of what the end would bring.

He shouldn't have to carry those fears alone. He wouldn't anymore.

This started with my magic, and I would do whatever was within my power to help him.